The Maker Giveth
by Apollo Wings
Summary: The Daughter of the Mountain universe short. A glimpse into the future of Alistair, Bethany and the Grey Wardens. Rated T. Do review.


Author note: Huge spoilers for The Daughter of the Mountain in the fact Bethany and Alistair are both alive. That and some references. Other than that - enjoy! In many ways, this fic has been published before it's time all for FenZev.

Also, yes - utterly depressing.

Disclaimer: Owned by Bioware but the way the words have been written? ALL MINE!

* * *

Bethany had become a different person after that whole fiasco when they reclaimed Soldier's Peak alongside Silmarwen and Shale. Alistair still lamented the loss of his vibrant love, replaced by a more morose Bethany. He hadn't even noticed the subtle changes until it had become too late and his sunshine was lost.

There were days when her light seemed to return, even in brief, infinitesimal moments she could shine. He smiled softly at the thought of that woman, how he loved her, cherished her and could deny her no thing!

Then there were the days when darkness chilled the air and Bethany was as isolated from her previous self that it was nigh impossible to reconcile the two together. Their duty as Wardens hung over the both of them those days, fearful remembrances of darkspawn in pitch settings, the phlegmy chuckles, hissed breath of the monsters, and the palpable fear.

But comfort sprang from such closeness that they shared, their long nights alone in the Peak's many Warden Quarters became a refuge in many ways from that which haunted them. Carver had come to accept his sister was a married woman now; amongst many things, the sable haired young man had come to grow into the role of Commander of the Wardens of Ferelden. That and the fact he didn't lack a warmed bed either.

Alistair turned his thoughts back to his wife, bed-bound by her pregnancy. Being waited upon hand and foot had been novel for her at first but in time she had grown to despise it wholly. Avernus would have been astounded at the way his potion had worked in many ways. But Alistair didn't like to think about the blood mage and the time he had shared his company. They were some of the darkest days of his life, fighting against the Archdemon.

Everything, everyone they had lost that day... He shuddered as he mounted the stairs two at a time to sling his pack down by the weapon stand in the room, smiling warmly at the figure grousing in the bed. "Oh! Hello Warden Alistair!" Gloriana, an elf that had worked in the Denerim Compound prior to it being burnt down smiled from the bedside. She put down her knitting and busied herself with packing the work away. "I was just spending some time with Bethany, how was the patrol?"

He chuckled. The elf may not be a Warden but she was close. "Alright, we had a mishap with a hyperventilating recruit but she'll be alright if she passes the Joining." He nodded to her. She smiled and milled out of the room. Alistair approached the bed. "How are you today sweetie?"

"My feet hurt, I barely managed to walk to the privy so I haven't been standing about and I can't even see them," The mage groaned, rubbing a hand on her swollen bump that distended from her stomach. "And I really, really wish I could get out of this bed." She smiled weakly, eyes watery.

"It'll be alright Bethy," He sat down on the edge, rubbing her cold hand over the knuckles with a callused thumb. She looked so pale, her cheeks thin and dark circles under her eyes that had once held copper warmth with every glance. "Have you been getting much sleep?"

"I feel like I'm always sleeping." She muttered, looking away. "Mother and Miriam might be able to visit if Miriam can convince the nobles of Kirkwall to spare her a few weeks. I got their letter this morning."

"That'll be nice. I haven't seen them since the wedding." He leaned forward and captured her lips in his, savouring the moment of happiness that came with her hand on the nape of his neck as she pulled him close. Bethany sighed happily.

"I'm glad you're back. Gloriana and Nessiara say I'm due any day."

"Well that hard-arse of a Commander said I have the next month off duty to devote all my attentions to my wife. I don't know what I've done to get into his good books," He grinned widely and laid his hand on the swell of his future child. Alistair lowered his face to the cloth expanse and cooed. "Have you been energetic today? Annoying your Mama?"

"Endlessly," Bethany laughed under her breath. "We're going to be parents. I wonder if everyone feels this wretched and fearful of the concept?"

He smiled up at her, it was one of her better days then. They had become too few and far between as of late. "I'm sure if you asked any mother they'd tell you something similar. I'm worried myself and I don't even have to go through birth!"

She punched him feebly on the shoulder. "I'll never forgive you if it hurts." She pouted, laughing. But the fear remained in her eyes.

* * *

The screaming had drawn him from the training room, still sweaty from exercises with Carver and Roderick. Gloriana was shouting, a strange thing for the usually calm elf and Nessiara was panicked, her middling pregnant form hurrying alongside her husband in retrieving towels and hot water.

It was all he could do not to rush in there, but Carver sat at his side, scowling in his companionable way that reminded him awfully of Loghain. He missed the taciturn man, he'd have given him a clip around the ear and told him to just go in there. But Bethany was cursing that if he came in there he'd not leave with eyebrows intact. That alone gave him pause.

Thinking of Loghain brought memories of Commander Dyr too. They'd not parted happily, he still resented in many ways the way she'd gone. He couldn't change that. She and Bethany had been such good friends too... she'd have been in that room with his wife, doting in her own, tough way.

Even Silmarwen, she'd have been in there. The three women were all very close. Leliana had been transferred to Orlais and they hadn't even heard from her after a month in the country of her childhood. That upset Bethany more than most. "Maker's blood. I'm going to be an uncle." Carver waggled his eyebrows.

"I'm surprised I'm not." Alistair laughed hesitantly, rubbing a circle in the downy fluff of hair on the back of his neck.

"Miriam was supposed to make me an uncle, what with the taint," The two married elves went in and out the room with a slam of the door. Carver turned his head as Bethany was groaning on the bed, her legs wide open and pointed toward the door. "Didn't need to see that."

The door cracked open, Gloriana poking her blonde head out, a nervous smile on her features. "Get your shem arse in here now. She needs you. I don't care if you humans don't do this but in the Alienage the man is in the room." Her tone was colder, much more confident than the woman they had known since she had started her employ amongst the Wardens. This was a far cry from her polite, if somewhat subservient start of housekeeping though. Alistair pushed off the chair in a flurry of movement, worry overwhelming any squeamishness.

He slunk into the room, tentatively watching the parade of work as Raighne mopped her brow and Nessiara held her hand, the elf had white skin where Bethany was squeezing so hard. "Maker preserve me, it's happening again!" Bethany cried out, her whole body going rigid as she gripped tight to the elf's hand and the bedsheets.

"It doesn't get easier. I would lie but it won't help," The Tabris by marriage soothed, wincing. It was her second pregnancy that was starting to show on her slim form so she would know. "You could lessen the grip though."

Bethany groaned. "Move Alistair." Gloriana bustled, pushing him toward the chair by the bed. He relieved Nessiara of the squeezing hand, taking the firm grip and patting her knuckles.

"Hey."

"Don't you dare hey me. You have no idea-" Bethany cut herself off, arching her back, guttural groans escaping her throat. For a mage, she had a fierce strength in her hands, that much was certain.

The hours dragged on in much the same way, Alistair floundering at her side, hoping and failing at reassuring is wife as she was in some of the greatest pain of her life.

They didn't have any healers in the Wardens, Orlais and The Free Marches had seen to that. Apostates were few and far between and if they passed the Joining their healing skills were mediocre at best. The circle was still floundering with hardly any mages that would cope with Warden life after the Battle of Denerim. What a slaughter that had been. Bethany was the only one and she was in no good state to contemplate taking enough lyrium to relieve her own pains. Her entire body was covered in a sheen of sweat that soaked the bed beneath her.

And there was blood. Crimson staining the mattress and sheets, dark pools of burgundy that ran in rivulets down her legs and splattered Gloriana's hands. The baby was being difficult but the elf was trying. She had been the midwife for Nessiara and despite her inexperience she tried to be a calm, collected and up to task. "It's not going to be a darkspawn." Bethany whimpered, all her strength had faded, her bottom jaw wobbling sadly.

"No, no he or she won't be." He held her hand tightly, trying to reassure her. It was taxing on him, Alistair could only imagine what she was going through. She smiled so infirmly that he felt his heart breaking just looking at her. Bethany seemed to seize up at that moment, choking on the collected spittle in her mouth as she wailed.

"We have crowning!" Gloriana sighed wearily. The elf's cream blouse was soaked through with blood up the rolled up sleeves, her slim arms caked in all sorts. "Push! Use all your strength Bethany!"

Bethany grit her teeth, seemingly putting everything she had into the effort. It was surprisingly quick for how long it had taken to get to this point. The squalling cry of the infant was joined by Alistair's wife, a cry of jubilation and release. Gloriana cradled the babe in her arms, covered in the birthing fluids but a small pink, slightly wrinkled child. Alistair found his own cheeks wet. He wiped his face with his sleeve. "Is it... a he or-" Alistair started.

"A boy. A healthy, non-darkspawn baby. Ready to see his Mummy and Daddy!" Gloriana was passed a towel by the half-Rivaini elf, swaddling his son warmly and wiping his small, scrunched face cleaner. "Heavier than I expected though!"

Alistair took him in the crook of his arms, instantaneous love welling in his chest at the vicious crying shape in them. His son! "Can I see him?" Bethany croaked, shivering and so pallid that Alistair felt conflicted over who to devote his attentions to, his son or wife. Carefully, cradling the tiny head inside the towel with one callused hand he leaned the babe toward his mother. Bethany shivered again, a smile of utter relief washing on her weary features. "Hello there, Eoin Theirin. It has a certain ring doesn't it?" Her voice was still hoarse and quiet but it could have been the loudest of noises.

"Eoin, because you don't name a child for the dead, their memory is better held than expected of a person." Alistair smiled, reciting Bethany's reason why they couldn't call a son after Duncan nor her father Malcolm. It was sound, a brilliant reason. She raised a thin, tapered finger to his red cheek, brushing the back of her nail over the flushed skin.

"So loud, do you-" Bethany's tired eyes widened. "Maker... Andraste's flaming undergarments!" She clutched her stomach, still swollen despite having given birth.

"The placenta. How about you show this young man to his uncle for the moment while we clean Bethany up and get the afterbirth out of the way?" Gloriana fussed, giving the still weeping babe a tickle of her tan fingers under his wobbling chin. Alistair had never been so proud.

"Will you be alright my love?" He asked of his wife. Bethany nodded, gritting her teeth and giving Eoin a fleeting look that promised cuddles later.

* * *

Carver had fallen in love with Eoin as easily as Alistair had, a natural, burning fierceness overcoming the Commander as he held the small babe in his arms for the first time. Raighne sat with them, having brought a glass bottle topped with a sucker of sorts that simulated a teat with expressed milk from his wife. "I remember this moment. Little Ra being born." The elf's dark eyes twinkled, the demeanour of a father compared to the business man overtaking him. He passed the bottle over to Alistair, cooing with a crooked dark finger held out to the baby.

Eoin seemed intrigued by the very strange elf, reaching out of the soft towel and latching his minuscule fingers around the nail portion of the finger and giving him a futile tug. Alistair chuckled, already curious.

It brought a sad reminiscence of his childhood back, wondering how his own father had managed to not fall this head over heels with him when he saw the babe in Redcliffe. It made those memories seem even the more tragic for the lack of the figures that should have been in his life. "Come on then, first meal!" He smiled at the babe that had hardly cracked his eyes open except to accurately grasp Raighne's finger.

Eoin looked at the foreign object nearing his mouth and instinctively knew the shape of it, latching onto the faux-teat with hungry gusto. Alistair smiled warmly, he had never imagined how close he would feel, giving nourishment to his son. It was a bond that formed stronger than any friendship or romance. This was his son!

Another desperate wail came from inside the bedroom. Raighne looked sadly at them. "Nessiara was still having contractions two days after the placenta. But she'll be alright, just take Eoin in after you burp him."

Carver looked mutely at his brother-by-law and new nephew, wondering if being a Warden was worth all this. He excused himself to go back to the training room. He had learned not to bottle his emotions but to use them in the years that had passed since he'd first become a Warden.

* * *

His mouth was dry as they stood by the unlit pyre. It was wrong, utterly wrong. There has been too much blood, Bethany hadn't the strength to swallow the elfroot potions or heal herself.

The entire regiment of Wardens stood in a horrid huddle around the body of the mage they had all come to know and love in their own ways. Bethany had been that sort of person, even as she grew morose and her sunshine faded.

Eoin was quiet, even at less than a week old with beautiful copper brown eyes like his mother and a tuft of soft, dark, blond hair he grasped tightly to the black linen sleeve of his father. Alistair drew comfort from his son, hating how he would grow up without his mother, hating how he just didn't know how to cope.

He couldn't cope with loss well. He'd never been able to and it twisted in his gut painfully.

Gloriana had cleaned up his wife well, she looked as if she were sleeping, a serene mask that hurt him more. The dead didn't have to cope, they just left the heartbreak in their wake.

He was too numb to remember what he'd said during the funeral, too numb to fully comprehend the words others had said. He remembered being moved into wracking sobs as Carver held the torch up, then lowered it to his twin sister.

He remembered how the Commander just eclipsed him in a hug, Eoin between them. The two men cried, not for Bethany but for themselves, their own selfish want of having her here, of having her with Eoin. Tears tended to be that way.

Alistair remembered seeing Leandra Hawke as well, how a ginger warrior had sat with her and cried with her as she held her grandson, how bitter indeed the Hawke family were together about Bethany's young death. Miriam had been cold, Alistair hadn't expected much else, pacing and blotchy cheeked.

The rest of the Wardens had left by the time evening had fallen and the pyre was ashes of a woman they had all loved. Alistair, Leandra, Miriam, Carver, Eoin, and the warrior he'd come to find out was called Aveline just standing there in the cold.

Eoin had started wailing, so Carver took him inside to be fed, Nessiara claimed she could wet nurse for a while. "She wanted to have her ashes scattered in Lothering." Alistair finally spoke.

Leandra nodded mutely, blinking fat tears out of her eyes before she devolved into more inconsolable weeping into Aveline's chest.

Life was just so ephemeral, fragile, and beautiful. In life Bethany Theirin had loved, lost and fought with and for everything. Nothing had been half measures, even in her last years.

Alistair took her love, her memory and lit a candle in his heart for her. He had to be strong, he was the last one left for Eoin.

* * *

It was many years later, his father and Eoin stood together, huddled against the snow in thick woollen cloaks.

They had come to the grave marker erected in the memory of Bethany Theirin. The young boy knew only recollections of his mother, bewildered by the sadness that came over the adults when they spoke of her and the bitter tears that fell when nobody thought he was watching.

He looked up at his father, starting to grey at his temples and walked up to the grave on his own. In the polished marble, it said her name. It spoke of her as if she'd existed and not lived.

Carefully, the child affixed a small white rose with a ribbon onto the stone, sniffing from the cold. His father's red roses were there every week.

Sadly, the two made their way back into the Grey Warden Fortress. His Nanny, Gloriana would have hot toast and jam ready for them by now.


End file.
